Formally Declined
by silver-etoile
Summary: Hermione hasn't seen Blaise in two years, but at a Ministry Ball, she is forced to face her past.


Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I do not own Harry Potter and/or any other characters used in this fic. They are all property of J.K. Rowling.

A/N: The other day I went looking for a good Hermione/Blaise story and I just couldn't find one... so I wrote one instead :) Enjoy!

* * *

_Hermione Jane Granger, _

You are cordially invited to attend the Minister's Ball on Saturday the 17th of December.

Dress is Muggle Formal. Enclosed find guide to Muggle dress.

Yours,

Sarah Jameson, Secretary to the Minister

Hermione reread the letter that had just been dropped in her window by a tawny owl and sighed. She had thought that taking a job outside of the magical world would prevent her from having to deal with things such as Ministry Balls.

She supposed it was because of her involvement with the death of Voldemort that they still sent her these invitations in hopes that she might show up.

It had been six years since the death of Voldemort. Afterwards, Hermione had decided to leave the magical spectrum for a while. She had applied at Oxford and been accepted where she had studied law and was now working in a rather large law firm in London.

She was quite content with her life at the moment. She had a modest flat on the outskirts of town where she lived alone except for Crookshanks, who was now older and becoming ever more the couch potato with every day.

She enjoyed her coworkers, except for perhaps Roy Hithersow who found it necessary to hit on her every day.

Hermione sighed and picked up the letter, intending to toss it into the fire when her cell phone rang. She scooped up the tiny silver phone and flipped it open.

"Hermione Granger, attorney at law," she answered promptly.

"Hey, 'Mione," came the voice through the receiver.

Hermione smiled and cradled the phone against her shoulder as she picked up her pen and began to doodle on the invitation. "Hi, Harry. How are you? I haven't seen you since you and Draco had that housewarming party two months ago."

Harry and Draco had somehow found each other a few years after the battle and had, for once, actually gotten along. One thing had led to another and somehow a few years later had found them moving in together.

Hermione was happy for them. She had been much more understanding than Ron when they had come to tell her. Ron had ended up shouting himself blue in the face until he'd finally come to the conclusion that it wasn't going to help. Hermione, on the other hand, had been much calmer in the face of their announcement. She had been supportive and told them that she whole-heartedly supported them.

"I'm doing good, Hermione," Harry replied. "Actually I was calling to see if you got an invitation to the Ministry Ball."

Hermione sighed and set down her pen, glancing at the doodle of a ball gown that she had drawn over the invitation. "Yes, I got one. I don't want to go but I feel obligated."

"You're not obligated. You don't even live in the magical world anymore, but…" he trailed off.

"But what?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, I don't really want to go either, but I was thinking that if you came we could spend some time together, like we used to."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed. She did miss spending time with Harry and it seemed like she never got out, but going to Ministry functions just wasn't appealing.

"Please." She could hear the pleading in Harry's voice and knew he just wanted someone to hang out with and make fun of all the officials with.

"Fine," she sighed finally.

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed. "Thank you, Hermione! You won't regret it, I promise… well, maybe just a little."

Hermione smiled and laughed. Then, glancing at the invitation again, said, "What's this thing about Muggle formal wear?"

"Oh," Harry laughed. "Apparently it's this new trend to wear Muggle fashions so they're having a ball in the Muggle style."

"Wonderful," Hermione muttered. It wasn't that she disliked Muggle wear, in fact, she much preferred it to unflattering wizard robes, but she had no Muggle formal wear. It would have been much easier to throw on a dress robe and not worry about what she looked like. Now she had to go out and buy something to wear to the Ball.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find something to wear," Harry said, correctly interpreting her tone.

"It's fine, Harry," she assured him.

"Okay, well, I'll see you on Saturday then?"

"Yeah, goodbye, Harry."

"Bye, 'Mione."

Hermione sighed as she clicked shut her phone and set it on the desk in front of her. She had no desire to go to the ball, but as she had just promised Harry, she was now roped into a decision she couldn't get out of.

She was leaning back in her chair, staring at the opened invitation that lay on her desk when a man poked his head into the room.

He strode into the place as though he owned it, perking up the collar on his ugly brown suit and smirking at her.

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she snatched the invitation off the desk before he had a chance to see it.

"Good afternoon, Hermione," the man greeted her in a would-be polite voice if it wasn't for the smug satisfaction behind it.

"It's Ms. Granger," she replied through gritted teeth.

"Right, right," the man said, sliding onto her desk. Hermione's eyes narrowed angrily and she stood up from her chair, the invite clenched in her hand. "What's that you've got there? Invitation to a party?"

"It's none of your business, Roy," she said coldly.

"Got a date?"

If she could have done magic in front of Muggles, Roy would have been out the door in two seconds. However, it was a Muggle office and Roy was also a Muggle. Instead, she took a breath and willed herself to keep her temper. It was difficult with a man that smelled like cheap cologne and who thought he was the most attractive man in the world.

"This has nothing to do with you, Roy, so I would advise you to leave before I file a sexual harassment lawsuit."

Roy just grinned, his crooked teeth gleaming. "Sexual harassment, eh? Can't keep your hands off me, can you?"

"Get out," Hermione said sternly, her eyes flashing.

"Sure thing, sweet pea," Roy said with a wink. Hermione merely glared at him. "If you need a date, you have my number."

Hermione followed him to the door and slammed it after him, grimacing at the thought of ever asking him out on a date. She hadn't planned on going with a date, let alone _Roy_, the laughing stock, not to mention stalker, of the office.

She grabbed her briefcase from the floor by her desk and threw a few papers haphazardly into it. Her day was certainly not turning out as she would have liked.

She had been planning on returning to her flat and taking a nice long bath with perhaps some hot cocoa, watching It's a Wonderful Life on her DVD player and then going to bed early. Now she had to go shopping for a proper dress for the party.

With a frustrated exhale, Hermione shut her briefcase and stood up straight. She smoothed down the front of her black pencil skirt that hugged her hips and checked her blouse before slipping her high heels back on and walking to the door.

Once out, she turned and locked the door and looked at her secretary.

"Grace, I have some errands to run, so I'm leaving early. Please take any messages and leave them for me in my box, alright?"

"Yes, Ms. Granger," the young women replied swiftly. Hermione granted her a small smile. She liked Grace. She was young and intelligent and reminded Hermione of herself at that age, so willing to please, so eager to be accepted by her peers.

Hermione grabbed her coat off the coat rack by the door and slid it on, knowing it would be cold when she got outside. She bid goodbye to her boss as she walked past his office on the way out. He barely glanced up, muttering a good day to her as well.

A frosty gust hit her as soon as she stepped outside the building and she pulled her coat tighter around her body. With a careful glance around her, she stepped swiftly into a side alley and then Apparated away.

Simply because she didn't live in the magical world didn't mean she wasn't prone to use it from time to time. Her house was connected to the floo network after all. She had a small owl that she used to send letters, provided Crookshanks didn't attempt to eat it, but Crookshanks had grown far too lazy lately to attempt such a thing.

Hermione appeared in another alleyway and tugged her coat closer. A light snow had begun to fall and flakes were settling in her hair. She hurried from the alley and into the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers that were hurrying down the street, arms full of packages and bags.

She pushed her way through until she came to a large clothing store that stood on one corner of the square. She entered in and was greeted by a young saleswoman, who took her coat and briefcase to store while she shopped.

Hermione looked up at the daunting store and took a breath. It was three stories of clothing galore. She asked the salesgirl where the formal dresses were located and was directed to the second floor.

As she stood on the escalator, she wondered once more why she had agreed to attend this party. Somehow, simply the opportunity to see Harry wasn't quite all the incentive she needed.

It was too late to turn back, though, and now she was stuck spending money on a dress she would never wear again.

She stepped off the escalator and made her way to the section marked formal wear. She sighed as she came to a rack of long dresses. She ran her fingers over the silk before taking any out to look at them. She had never been very good at picking out dresses.

She selected a black silk dress that cascaded to the floor and put it in the dressing room to try on later. From there she moved on to a rack that had more colorful dresses of differing lengths. A light blue one caught her eye and she set it aside.

After she had gathered a few dresses, she went into the changing room and tried on the long, slinky black dress. It hugged her hips and, personally, she thought it made her look like a slut. Nevertheless, she went out to the three-way mirror to examine it from all angles before she made her decision.

She was on the verge of looking it over, wrinkling her nose the more she saw of it when a voice startled her out of her displeased musings.

"Looks good."

She turned around, intending to tell off whatever man thought they had better taste than her when she stopped suddenly as she caught sight of who it was.

Blaise Zabini was sitting casually in a chair just outside the changing rooms. His leg was crossed over the other and he was leaning back, looking completely unconcerned.

"Zabini," Hermione greeted him coldly. "What are you doing here? Shopping for your next cocktail party?"

Blaise's low chuckle sent a shiver down Hermione's spine and his smirk did nothing to help. "You and I both know that I am not gay," he said, a note of amusement sliding into his low voice. "You've been hanging around Potter and Draco too much."

"On the contrary," Hermione replied in a lofty voice. "Perhaps it's you who's been doing that."

She turned back to the mirror with a small huff. Smoothing down the front of the silk dress, she tried to ignore the sound of Blaise rising from his chair and walking slowly towards her. She could see him in the mirror but determinedly didn't look at him.

She continued smoothing the dress, frowning at the way it laid on her body. She didn't like the way it clung to her hips, showing off every curve, good or bad.

She stilled as a hand brushed against her neck, pushing her hair back. She glanced up and her eyes caught Blaise's in the mirror.

"Black is not your color, my dear," he murmured quietly.

"And what is?" she asked, her glare cold. "Green?"

"No," Blaise's voice was soft but loud in her ear, "blue is better, like your dress robes in fourth year."

Hermione's eyebrows came together for a second. How did he remember what she had worn in fourth year? Blaise caught the question in her eyes and his smirk was devious.

"I'm much more observant than you think, my little pet."

"Don't call me that," Hermione said sternly. She jerked her shoulder away from his hand and stood up straighter. Her eyes were hard as she glared at him in the mirror. "Why are you here, Zabini?"

Her question was answered almost immediately as a high-pitched voice sounded from around the corner.

"Blaise! Where have you gone! I've picked out a dress, now we can—"

The sentence stopped short as the speaker came around the corner. Blaise took a quick step back from Hermione and Hermione turned to the speaker, her expression even more disdainful.

"Parkinson," she addressed the tall, dark-haired woman who was standing before her, a long dark-blue dress in hand.

"Granger," Pansy Parkinson sneered, her eyes raking over Hermione's body and sneering at the dress. She turned to Blaise, who looked completely inconspicuous. "Blaise, I'm ready to leave."

Blaise made a sign with his hand, showing the way to the cashier. Pansy put her nose in the air and swept past Hermione without a second glance. Blaise glanced at Hermione, a smirk creeping on his face.

"See you at the party." Then he turned and followed after Pansy.

Hermione's eyes grew wide and her heart beat faster. Party? He was going to the party? Oh no.

She stepped down from the platform on which she'd been standing and sunk into the chair Blaise had previously occupied. She took a few moments to process what had just happened.

It had been a year and a half since she had seen Blaise last and it hadn't been pleasant. She had harbored a small crush on him ever since sixth year when she had met him in the Slug Club, but it wasn't much because of his attitude.

During the war he had joined their side and she had gotten to know him a bit better, only serving to fuel her crush even more. Two years ago, she had attempted to get to know him even better.

They had spent some time together, eventually beginning to date. The problem was that he didn't seem to be able to be faithful. It wasn't that they were exclusive, but Hermione found she was always jealous when he went out with other women. She had asked him to be monogamous, but he had told her monogamy was just a form of power people had over each other, a power game as to who could hold out the longest.

Hermione hadn't liked that answer and a fight had ensued. She accused him of only caring for himself and having no capability to love anyone else. She had called him selfish and egotistical and unwilling to open himself to others.

She had broken up with him, thinking that she would be better off, but the next six months had been hell. She had spent most of the time wishing she was with him and almost regretting her decision. She had spent a lot of time with Harry during that time, afraid of being alone.

After a while, she had told herself to put it behind her and move on with her life. Things had been going pretty well. She avoided all functions she knew he would be at and hid herself away in the Muggle world.

She had gone a year and a half without seeing or hearing of him and now he had shown up at worst possible time, acting like nothing had ever changed.

Hermione sighed and gathered herself. She needed to forget about him and move on. She pushed herself out of the chair and took one more glance in the mirror. The more she looked at the dress, the more she hated it.

She just had to get through the next weekend and everything would be fine.

OoOoO

"That Hermione Granger," Pansy said angrily. "Who does she think she is talking to me like that? I mean, you'd think she would have learned some manners over the years, but then I guess that's what you get for living with Muggles, isn't it, Blaise? They're so dirty and uncouth, right, Blaise? Blaise? Blaise!"

"Hmm? Yes, Pansy, uncouth," Blaise agreed.

They were walking down the busy London street as shoppers bustled past. Blaise had Pansy's dress shrunk and in his pocket as they walked, keeping together so as not to get jostled about.

"Are you even listening?" Pansy asked, poking him in the side.

"Yes, yes," he replied, sounding frustrated. "You hate Muggles, you hate Hermione; I get it."

Pansy glanced sharply at Blaise when he said Hermione's name. "You're thinking about her, aren't you?" she asked suspiciously.

"No," he said forcefully.

"You are!" Pansy exclaimed, stopping walking. "I can't believe you! She called you the most self-centered bastard she'd ever met, and that's including Draco, and yet you're still thinking about her."

"I'm well-aware of what she called me, Pansy," Blaise replied coldly. "I was there."

"Then _why_ are you still fixated on her?"

Blaise sighed angrily and was jostled about as a mob of shoppers pushed past where they stood in the middle of the sidewalk.

"I am not fixated on her. I merely saw her today, alright?"

"Oh please," Pansy scoffed, "you're always thinking about her, don't think I don't know. I know you have a gold scarf in your closet."

"It's cold out," Blaise replied, though his sentence was nowhere near as cold as his tone. "That's what scarves are for."

"Gold?" Pansy asked snidely. "Why not silver or green? Maybe you want a _red_ one."

"I just want a fucking scarf, Pansy," Blaise snarled back. She was getting far too close for his comfort.

"Sure you do," she replied loftily, turning and beginning to walk again. "Just like you wanted to be a free man, sleep with whoever you wanted, not be tied down."

Blaise said nothing, stalking along in silence, not bothering to apologize when he knocked down a few people.

Pansy strode to keep up with him. "You know, Blaise," she said quietly beside him, "they say it's unhealthy to care for someone so selfish. She only thinks about herself, doesn't she? She left the magical world all for herself. She doesn't care about anyone there anymore. She hasn't seen Potter in months. You're too good for her. She's just a conniving little bitch who—"

Pansy stopped immediately as Blaise whipped around, his wand in his hand and pressing it into her stomach, hidden by his coat so no Muggles could see. His eyes were blazing with anger as he glared at her.

"One more word, Pansy, and I'll make Black's crime look like a candy store robbery."

Pansy swallowed hard and said nothing; staring back into Blaise's blazing eyes. After a minute, Blaise slid his wand back into his jacket and turned around, walking away.

"So I was right."

Blaise stopped as Pansy's voice floated back to him from over the hustle of the crowd.

"You do still love her."

Blaise turned around slowly, his eyes hard as he looked back to where Pansy stood. She hadn't followed him when he had turned to leave.

"I never told her that, so there's no 'still' to add," Blaise said coldly.

Pansy didn't respond, only glanced to her left where there was a large window display full of bright red and green colors, showing holiday cheer.

"Pick me up at eight on Saturday, Blaise," she said, not looking at him. In a second, she had vanished, unnoticed by the people milling around him.

Blaise shoved his hand in his pocket and realized her dress was still there. With a silent spell, he sent it to her flat, then he turned and stalked away down the street.

OoOoO

Saturday night came and Hermione found herself examining herself in the mirror. She ran a hand through her hair, hoping the hairstyling cream she had used would hold the curls in the dark waves they had become for the night. She reached over to her bureau and picked up a pearl necklace that she strung around her neck then added a pair of pearl drop earrings to the ensemble.

The dress she wore was a light blue and fell to just below her knees. Thin spaghetti straps held the top up and the outfit was completed with white high heels that showed off the small tattoo of a dove on her ankle.

She took a calming breath and reached for her small clutch purse, inside of which was her wand and some money, both Muggle and wizard. She bit her lip as she looked at her reflection. Earlier, she had seriously considered calling Harry and telling him she was sick, but in the end, she knew it was pointless and that she had to face her past sooner or later.

Nine O'clock found her preparing herself mentally for the night to come. She grabbed her purse and gave herself a once-over in the mirror before bidding Crookshanks goodnight and leaving her flat.

She Apparated from the hallway to the alley by a grand hotel on the other side of London. She crept out from the alley and saw many well-known witches and wizards entering the hotel.

She followed their path and was greeted by the doorman. She took the elevator up to the tenth floor of the hotel where she checked her coat and entered the large double doors into the spectacularly lit hall.

She was impressed by the lengths the Ministry had gone for this ball. Instead of magical accents that were usual at these kinds of functions, like fairies and floating lights, it seemed the decorators had gone all out to make sure the Muggle theme was followed to a T.

Twinkle lights were strung along the banister to the stair case that led to the hall. Christmas trees were decorated with Muggle ornaments and lights. They had slipped up here and there with the obviously magical touches such as singing Christmas figurines, but all in all, Hermione had to admit they'd done a good job.

She slid past couples glad-handing each other and to the other side of the room, all the while on the look-out for a tall, dark-haired man with eyes to pierce her soul.

She made it to the bar and ordered a drink from the young bartender. She accepted it with a small smile and stirred it slowly.

"Waiting for someone?" the young man asked.

Hermione was startled and stopped stirring the drink. "Hm? Oh, no, I was just admiring all the decorations."

The man smiled to himself. "They had a heck of a time with them earlier until Mr. Zabini came and helped."

"Zabini?" she asked sharply.

The boy paused. "Yeah, he knows a lot about Muggles. Helped them with all the eclectricity stuff."

"Oh," Hermione said quietly. "Is he still here? Or did he leave already?"

"Still around here somewhere," the man replied. "Came with this leggy brunette but she didn't seem too happy. He's probably trying to appease her. She looked a little frightening to me. I wouldn't want to deal with her."

Hermione hid a small smirk and took a sip of her drink. "Thank you for the drink," she said politely. "I'm sure I'll be back."

The man grinned and winked at her before turning to serve the next people who had approached.

She moved away from the bar, still keeping an eye out for Blaise. Instead, though, she caught sight of Harry and Draco standing off to the side of the dance floor. Draco looked a little less than pleased at his clothing for the night. Hermione thought he looked rather nice in a suit and tie, but Draco didn't seem to like it.

"Hello, Harry, Draco," she greeted them warmly.

Harry smiled and pulled her into a hug. "Hermione, you came!" He pulled away, grinning at her. "You look great! See, I told you it wouldn't be that hard."

Hermione smiled but kept to herself what exactly had happened on her shopping trip. Instead, she turned to Draco, who had yet to say anything.

"Draco, you look nice this evening."

Draco pulled a face and tugged at his tie. "I hate Muggle attire. It's much too constricting."

Hermione just laughed and Harry rolled his eyes fondly. Draco continued tugging at his tie until his attention was caught by something else.

"Oh, there's Blaise, I must have a word with him," Draco said, looking over some people's heads to where Blaise stood with Pansy on his arm.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly but she kept her head down, unwilling to look over there. Harry didn't say anything as his boyfriend left them, making his way over to Blaise.

Once he was completely gone, Harry turned to Hermione quickly. "'Mione, I didn't know he was coming, I swear."

"I know you didn't, Harry," she sighed, touched by his concern. "I did."

"You did? Then why—You could have canceled. I would have understood," Harry said sincerely.

"No, Harry, I—I have to face my past eventually. It'll be better this way, to know that I truly am over him."

Harry looked uneasy as he glanced over to where Draco and Blaise were now talking, Pansy standing off to the side looking bored.

"Well, okay, just stay away from him and it should be okay."

Hermione gave him a small smile and patted his arm. "I hope so." She paused, glancing at the dance floor. She looked back at Harry. "Would you like to dance?"

"I would love to."

Together, they walked onto the dance floor and began to dance to a slow tempo song. They swayed together and Hermione rested her head on Harry's shoulder as they moved.

"Do you still love him?"

Harry's question came out of nowhere and Hermione didn't raise her head.

"Did I ever?"

"Yes."

Hermione paused as they turned around in a slow circle. "Maybe."

They were silent for a moment as they continued dancing slowly, ignoring everything else around them.

"Did you mean what you said to him?" Harry asked quietly as they circled the other couples.

"You mean when I called him a selfish bastard and told him that I never wanted to see him again?"

"Yeah."

"I… I wanted to mean it. I wanted to forget about him and pretend he never existed. I wanted to believe that I didn't need him, that I could get by on my own."

"But you can," Harry said pressingly, pulling her closer.

"I know I can," she sighed. "But it just wasn't the same afterwards. But I know he'll never change. I mean, look at him tonight; same suave look, like he doesn't give a fuck about anyone, showing up with Parkinson in that slutty dress, pretending he likes everyone while really he'll go home later and talk about them behind their backs. He's not like Draco, Harry; he'll always be a Slytherin."

"Maybe he just needs the right person, like I was for Draco," Harry suggested.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't it," Hermione said quietly. She heard Harry sigh, but knew he wasn't going to say anything more. They had gone through all of this many times before over the past year and a half.

They danced like that for quite a while until Harry stopped suddenly and Hermione lifted her head. Draco was standing next to them, a smile on his face.

"May I cut in?" he asked smoothly, his eyes locked on Harry. Harry glanced at Hermione, who gave him a small smile.

"Of course," she said graciously, stepping back and letting Draco take over. She watched them for a minute as they danced, then sighed and made to turn around to get another drink, only to find her path blocked by a very solid body. "Oh," she said quickly, "excuse m—" She stopped as she looked up and into Blaise's dark blue eyes.

"May I have this dance?" Blaise asked, his eyes dancing deviously.

"Actually," Hermione said, keeping her tone as frosty as she could, "I was just about to have a chat with Ginny." She indicated to where the younger red-head was standing with her date for the evening.

She took a step past him, only to be stopped by his hand on her arm. She stopped and stared at the ground for a moment, keeping her temper in tow. When she looked back at him, her expression was hard.

"Let go of me," she said firmly.

"Just one dance, Hermione," he said smoothly, pulling her in front of him and placing a hand on her waist. He could feel her stiffening in his arms.

She glared at him for a moment before submitting to the inevitable. When he wanted something, he certainly did whatever it took to get it.

"One dance," she said coldly, raising her arms mechanically and placing them on his shoulders.

They danced in silence for a few moments, Hermione keeping her attention off Blaise. Her eyes were fixed over his shoulder at the twinkling lights that had been strung up on the ceiling. She jerked her eyes away, though, as Blaise leaned into her ear.

"Blue is definitely your color," he whispered as they danced slowly together.

"Thank you," she replied shortly.

"Take the compliment, Hermione," Blaise murmured, his hand sliding over the soft fabric of her dress that lay over her back.

"I would if it meant anything," she shot back, keeping her voice low as they swept past more dancing couples.

"Are you accusing me of being insincere?" Blaise asked, his tone low but not completely serious.

"I'm not accusing because we both know it's true," Hermione replied sharply, making an annoyed noise as his hand slipped to her lower back.

One of Blaise's hands left her waist and came to her neck to brush away a few wisps of stray hair that had escaped their nice waves. Hermione shivered as she felt his warm breath on her neck.

"Your wit was always something I admired," Blaise said quietly.

Hermione let out an angry breath. "Stop trying to flatter me, Zabini. You're still the same selfish bastard you were two years ago."

Blaise didn't respond immediately, only swung them around to the music. If Hermione had been concentrating on anything other than her shoes, she might have seen Harry watching them carefully, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"Do you believe people can change, Hermione? Because I do," Blaise said, his mouth still close to her ear as they danced slowly.

Hermione gasped as his hand grazed her thigh but quickly settled back on her lower back. She could feel anger coursing through her veins but was concentrating on keeping her temper.

"It takes longer than a day to change," she replied coldly. "And usually you can tell."

"I can tell you've changed, Hermione," Blaise murmured. "But you're still as beautiful as always." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing over the skin just below her ear.

This was the last straw for Hermione. She pushed him away with a glare that could rival a Malfoy Death Glare™ any day.

She backed away from Blaise, cold fury in her eyes. She didn't stop to apologize as she bumped into other couples dancing. Many around them stopped to watch.

"You haven't changed, Blaise," she said, her voice shaking with suppressed anger and emotion, "and you never will." Then she turned and strode off the dance floor, leaving Blaise standing in the middle all alone.

Without looking at anyone, Hermione broke into almost a run as she reached the doors to the Hall. She hurried into the hallway and took a right down another path that followed along the edge of the hotel. Open windows let the cold and snow in, but offered a beautiful view of the city below.

She ignored the cold, walking until she didn't know where else to go and finally sinking down on a small bench that sat at the end of the open corridor.

By now, tears were streaming down her face and she didn't bother to stop them. She couldn't believe she had been so naïve as to think he could actually change, that maybe there was something in him capable of loving another person like he loved himself. She had let herself believe Harry's stupid notion that if the right person came along, he might change.

With a sniff, she wiped away a tear and shivered under the combined weight of her emotions and the freezing breeze that was blowing snow into her dark alcove. She was wishing that she had brought her coat with her, or anything to keep her warm.

She refused to go back, though, and face them all, whispering behind their hands about what had happened between her and Blaise. She knew most people knew they had been together and that they had broken up rather abruptly. She was sure the rumors would be horrible after tonight.

She took a shaky breath and hugged her arms to keep warm. She knew she would have to leave soon, either return to the Ball or attempt to sneak away.

She sniffed again, shivering in the cold. Wiping away a tear, she thought vaguely that her makeup was effectively ruined and there was no way she could go back, even if she wanted to.

Rubbing her arms vigorously and attempting to stem her tears, she thought longingly of her flat that had a nice warm fireplace and hot cocoa and all the comforts of home, a place where she didn't have to think about Blaise and all the things he may or may not do in his life, with or without her.

She stayed huddled in her corner for a long while until the tears had nearly stopped. She hadn't believed it possible to shed this many tears over one person, but when she had met Blaise, she would never have been able to predict the effect he would have on her.

She gasped as she looked up and saw a person standing about five feet away from her.

"Go away," she said, attempting to be firm but hearing the waver in her own voice.

"Hermione," Blaise said slowly, his voice no longer its usual self-confident tone.

"Leave me alone!" Hermione said harshly, feeling tears prick her eyes once more, threatening to fall.

Blaise hesitated, then shrugged off his jacket and took a few careful steps towards her, offering it silently.

Through her tear-clouded eyes, she saw this and tentatively reached out for it and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Blaise stared at her for a moment, as if he didn't know what to do. He watched her cry silently, her shoulders shaking and her body shivering from the continued cold.

"Hermione," he said again and this time wasn't interrupted by her. He took this as a good sign and continued, taking a step closer to her. "Hermione, I'm—I'm sorry."

She didn't look up at him, but he could tell she was listening.

"The other day when I saw you, I wasn't expecting it and I didn't know how to act. I acted stupidly and without thinking. You just… when I see you, I can't think straight. My brain goes into Hogwart's Slytherin mode and I can't get out of it." He sighed and took another careful step forward, ignoring the biting cold that was stinging his arms. "You probably don't know this but when we were in school, I had something of a crush on you."

Hermione's head turned sharply at these words and she stared at him through reddened eyes.

"Even though I wasn't supposed to have feelings for anyone of another House at school, I couldn't help noticing you. At the Yule Ball, you looked so beautiful. Then afterwards, I know you helped Potter with all his tasks. I told you tonight I admired your wit, well, I admired your intelligence also, your determination, so many Slytherin-like qualities. I asked myself why you couldn't have been in Slytherin so we could have a chance." Blaise paused and got down on his knees beside Hermione, who had turned away again and was no longer looking at him.

"When I finally had that chance with you, I panicked. I reverted back to my old selfish nature, pushing you away because I thought you had better things to do than care about me. I know it was wrong, but I didn't know what it really felt like to have someone who cared about you. My mother was never around and I've had so many fathers I can barely keep track." He reached out for Hermione's hand. It jumped when he touched it, but she didn't pull away, though he could tell she was stiffly receiving it. "I thought that you wouldn't stay either. No one ever does. So I pushed you away. I tried to block you out. It worked, too well."

Hermione was listening hard. Her tears had stopped now but she refused to look at Blaise. She could almost feel the pain in his words. She hated to think what his face looked like. She had never heard him talk about his mother or family life. He had always steered clear of the subject whenever she had brought it up while they were dating.

"You broke up with me and called me selfish and spoiled and egotistical, all the things I had striven not to be since school. I felt like I was a naughty child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. You pointed out all my flaws with ruthless vengeance. I hated what you called me, I _hated_ it. But you were right. I was all those things. And I wanted you to think that. I didn't want to think about what might have happened if you actually did care."

Hermione listened as he paused. She pulled his coat tighter around her. She could smell the scent that was distinctly Blaise, something woodsy mixed with the spice of expensive cologne. She didn't realize how much she had missed that smell.

"Hermione," she heard her name, "I'm sorry for everything that I've done. I know this doesn't make up for it and I don't know if I ever can, but I just wanted you to know that even if I never said it while we were together, I do… I… I love you." There was silence for a moment and Blaise stood up, dropping her hand and turning around.

Hermione sat motionless on the bench, her mind racing as she saw him beginning to walk away out of the corner of her eye.

"W-wait!" she called, standing up quickly, snow falling off the jacket that she still held around her shoulders.

He stopped several feet from her and turned around slowly. The look on his face nearly broke her heart. He looked so lost.

"I don't know what to do," she said haltingly. "I want to believe you, but you never shown me that you can care for someone else. How am I supposed to know it's true? What if this is all a lie?"

Blaise moved swiftly to her as she began to break down once more. She hated herself for it, but she couldn't help it.

"Hermione, I know I've hurt you, but I wasn't ready," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her body shaking from the tears and the cold. For once, she didn't stiffen in his arms. "I didn't know what I was supposed to do, how I was supposed to act. I didn't believe my own feelings, but I know what they are now and I'm so sorry. I never want to hurt you like that again."

Hermione couldn't believe the change that had overcome Blaise. She had never seen him so willing to talk about his feelings, to let his guard down. She almost hadn't believed that he had a side like this.

Her hands curled around the fabric of his shirt as she tried to calm her emotions and stop the tears that didn't seem to want to stop that night. She knew she was getting his shirt wet, but he didn't say anything.

"Hermione," she heard his low voice in her ear, "I was immature two years ago. I didn't know what I wanted or how to get it."

"Do you now?" she whispered, wondering exactly what answer she wanted. Did she want him to admit that he had loved her all along and that he wanted to try again? Or did she want him to say that it was obvious they didn't work together?

Blaise took hold of her shoulders and pulled away, looking at her seriously. Her hair was becoming messier by the minutes as cold wind blew snow all around it. Her makeup was ruined but he didn't care. He raised a thumb to her cheek and wiped away a lingering tear.

"I want another chance to be with you," he said sincerely. "I want to prove that I'm not the selfish, egotistical prick you think I am."

Hermione was silent for a minute as she thought it over. If she was completely honest with herself, she had to admit that she wanted to try again, too, but she wasn't sure if it was a good idea. Had she seen any evidence that he could change, that it really had been something done to push her away? Did he really love her?

"Please…"

Hermione looked at him when he said that. She'd never heard him say that before, ever. He was always strong and self-sufficient. That was part of why she had broken up with him; he had never seemed to need anyone else, and he never let anyone do anything for him.

"Blaise, I…" She hesitated. "I still… care about you. And I know that I probably shouldn't believe you, but… I want to try again."

She watched as a slow smile spread over Blaise's face. He pulled her close to him and leaned down, capturing her lips in a long-awaited kiss.

Her hands slid up the front of his shirt as his hands held her tightly around her waist. The kiss was hard and possessive as they stood in the freezing snow ten stories above civilization.

Hermione shivered as they pulled away from the kiss. Blaise raised a hand and brushed her hair away from her neck and pulled her into a warm hug.

"You won't regret this, I promise," he whispered.

Hermione relaxed into his embrace, finally feeling alright with her life. She felt him press a kiss to her neck and his smirk.

"Well, maybe a little," he said mischievously and Hermione smiled impulsively. If she was going to regret anything, it was not letting him back in sooner.

* * *

A/N: Please review! 


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